04:03
Episode 4: Milk Run Mechanix
Part 3
“Didn’t you think that was the tiniest bit weird?” Laurel asked Violet. “Him going for you like that?”
Violet stared out the window. Laurel heard soft humming.
“Violet?” asked Laurel.
“What?”
“I said, Rickenbacher was being a perv. He must be forty at least. Right?”
“He was still hot. Age really isn’t that big of a deal.”
Laurel giggled. “So if he were like fifty you’d go for him?”
“Fifty isn’t dead you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you liked old guys.”
“He’s not old,”
“Right. He’s distinguished.”
“Shut up. I bet you don’t even like guys.”
Laurel blushed. “I do, too,” she mumbled.
Violet’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her gaping mouth.
“You’re shitting me,” Violet exclaimed. “Can you do … everything?”
“That’s really not your business.”
“Bull shit. We live together. If I come in and some guy is on top of you I gotta know if I should beat him up or not.”
“I…. It’s not like….”
Laurel fell silent. Violet felt sorry for her and patted her head.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie” she told the robot. “It’s hell being a teenager.”
“I AM NOT A TEENAGER!” Laurel shouted. She looked down at the gas gauge.
“Fuck, I gotta stop up here.”
“What? You couldn’t stop at Hinkley? Tobe’s has the best donuts.”
“I gotta get gas,” Laurel told her.
“Fine. I gotta go to the bathroom anyways.”
The Galaxie exited up a ramp and turned east to get to a small gas station. She stopped beside a pump painted a cheap, bright red with a brush, showing every stroke and streaks of the old, yellow paint underneath. They both climbed out. Violet examined the tank, her breath turning to vapor in the frigid air.
“Yikes,” said Violet. “Maybe I don’t want to use their toilet.”
“Just go! I don’t want to stop again.”
Laurel swiped her credit card and started to fill the tank. When Violet was inside the little store she mumbled, “fucking humans,” under her breath.
Laurel noticed, logged and then ignored the green Toronado that came up behind her. Then the white Bronco pulled up in front of her.
“Oh shit,” she said to no one.
Four young men in thick, hooded sweatshirts climbed out of the Toronado. All four had their hands stuck in side the front pockets of the sweatshirts and all the pockets bulged in the same gun-shaped way. Laurel looked at each man in turn, recording his face. Recording the ornate french cross tattooed at an angle across each forehead.
Cross-heads, she thought and smiled at them.
“Hello boys.”
Laurel took the nozzle from the Galaxie and casually sprayed gas over the closest of the men, then turned and hosed down as much of the Bronco as she could reach. The men jumped back but the fuel still doused them and the hood of the bronco dripped pink liquid. She replaced the nozzle in the pump and carefully screwed the cap back into the Galaxie, closed the little door, and turned to address the cross-heads. There were now four more men in sweatshirts climbing down from the Bronco. She turned and nodded towards them as well.
“Now you boys have a problem,” she said. “There is enough gasoline around here that if any of you fire a gun you’ll all go up.”
The largest of the men from the Bronco cocked the hammer on the pistol.
“It’s ten degrees, bitch,” he growled. “Nothin’s gonna happen.”
The rest of the men drew their pistols from their sweatshirts and pointed them at Laurel.
“Still, I don’t want to shoot a little girl if I can help it,” continued the man. “Give me the box and you can drive off.”
Laurel stopped smiling. She glared at the big man and opened the rear door of her car. The man nodded to one of the Toronado men who came to Laurel’s side, pushing her out of the way.
At least he tried to push her. His fingers bent backwards as he pushed. Laurel spun around and grabbed the man by both shoulders. The was a loud, wet double-pop and the man screamed. Laurel held him up by his swelling, dislocated shoulders, using the cross-head as a shield.
“I’m sure you boys don’t care what happens to your friend here,” she shook him lightly bringing fresh complaints, “but his corpse can absorb a lot of bullets, so shooting me won’t do much good.”
She reached into his front pocket and retrieved his pistol.
“Now, I can shoot any of you.” She turned to face the big man from the Bronco, keeping her back hidden inside the car. “I don’t want to shoot anyone if I can help it.”
At that moment gunfire erupted from the store. The cross-heads turned and fired at Violet, forcing her back inside the doorway. Laurel fired at the big cross-head, hitting him in the ear and exploding his brain over the Bronco.
“I AM NOT A LITTLE GIRL!” she shouted at his falling corpse.
Back in the store, Violet crouched behind the low concrete block wall under the display window. The counter clerk knelt behind his counter, simultaneously emptying the cash drawer and loading bullets into a revolver. She watched the man work for a few seconds .
“Stop that!” she shouted.
“They’re shooting out there,” the clerk whined. “What if they come in here?”
“Is there a back door?” asked Violet. “Some other way out of here?”
“Y-yeah. The loading door, but….”
“Then you go out that way. Problem solved.”
The clerk continued scooping up money, staring at Violet.
“Shoo!” she said. “Get lost.”
“But the money?”
Violet popped out, fired off a couple rounds at the cross-heads. She ducked back inside and punched the trembling clerk in his face.
“I promise you the money will survive. You might not. Get it?”
The clerk grabbed up his gun and ran, doubled over, to the back room. Violet waited until she heard an outside door open and shut, then she went around the counter and emptied out the rest of the till.
Laurel ducked into the back of the Galaxie, picking up a long, thin sword from atop the seat. She rolled out in a backwards somersault, came up standing and flipped twice, catching three bullets in her right leg. Her sword cut through the first cross-head unfortunate enough to remain where he stood. he dropped to the ground attempting to push a long, pink stretch of intestine back into his belly. She stood and swiped at another man nicking the side of his throat. Red blood sprayed out across the hood of the Toronado. The man fell, first to his knees and then to his face as his heart pumped his life-blood away. With a single hand-spring Laurel vaulted the car hood, landing between the remaining cross-heads, and ducking. Their first reaction was to fire their pistols. She stood watching the store with a fading grin.
Violet charged from the doorway firing a short-barreled shotgun. She aimed low and shouted “Take that you bastards!” as she charged.
A blast hit one cross-head at knee-height blowing him off his feet onto the ground.
One of the remaining pair climbed in behind the wheel of the Bronco while the other one ran to the unguarded rear of the Galaxie.
“Oh no you don’t,” yelled Laurel. She leapt into the air and dove at the man as he dragged the case out onto the frozen ground. Laurel’s assault knocked the case from his hands, breaking it open on the frozen asphalt.
“Watch out!” shouted Violet.
It was too late. Laurel flashed her sword. The cross-head raised his hand to fend off the sword and the appendage dropped to the ground like a dropped glove. Blood fountained from the stump, spraying the exposed wooden box. The remaining cross-head started the Bronco and roared from the parking lot.
Laurel sighed and bent down to gather up the broken boxes. The wooden box, now splattered with warm, dripping blood, lay open on the ground. Laurel picked it up and looked inside.
“It’s empty.”
Violet looked around. Three of the seven were dead. Three of the other four would probably die within an hour.
She touched Laurel’s shoulder.
“We gotta go,” she said.
Something flashed on the ground. Violet saw it moments before it disappeared into Laurel’s pants leg.
“Get it out!” Laurel shook her leg, hopping across to a snowbank. They both watched as a lump crawled up across her stomach and over to her right shoulder while Laurel snatched and grabbed at the fabric.
“Stop it! Get it out!” she yelled.
The lump seemed to dissipate whenever she touched it, only to reappear somewhere else. It appeared on her right shoulder and slithered around her arm until a silver centipede like a knight’s gauntlet appeared above her elbow. The bug slid down her flailing forearm and attached itself to her wrist.
“Ow!” shouted Laurel. She grabbed the bug and pulled at it. “God damn it! This thing won’t come off.”
Violet came over and tried pulling but nothing happened. The eyes of the centipede glowed purple. Violet looked into Laurel’s eyes and stepped back.
“Ah, sweetie? Can you put the sword down now — please?”
Laurel stood with her sword raised above her head and her right arm extended as if she were about to chop it off. What freaked out Violet were her glowing eyes — just like the centipede’s. The glowing stopped. Laurel lowered the sword and come back to herself.
“Aw jeeze,” moaned Violet.
EPISODES
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